The Secrets of Hawk’s Rise

By John Dorman

There is no available information at this time. Author will provide once available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984543714

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by John Dorman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/02/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

747596

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

44197.png

PROLOGUE

I N THOSE LAST twenty years preceding the War Between the States, life in Southern Georgia was slow and gentle, seemingly caught up in an age of assumed innocence and preferred isola tion.

With only a smattering of the gentility of the South to grace its society, it would be readily evident to any visitor that Carson’s Cove was not on par with one of the more metropolitan areas like Savannah or Atlanta. It might well have been considered rather basic by some standards. But neither was it such a place where one would expect to discover dark, elaborate, and deadly secrets hidden, smoldering just beneath the surface, secrets interlaced into the network and the fiber of the community so that tragedy and titillation had almost equal impact. In such a close-knit setting, the casual visitor would hardly suspect the level of hurt and the depth of deception that were part and parcel of the very fabric of day-to-day living.

This area known to the locals as simply the Cove, sprawled out across forty square miles of low rolling hills of red clay, mostly farmland, which was snuggled up against the west bank of Sweet Water Creek. It was bounded on the south by the wilderness territory of Florida, and on the north, it was garrisoned by a big cypress swamp. The creek made a long lazy sweep to the east, and in some ancient age, floods had deposited rich farm soil along the flatter lands by the banks.

Almost dead center between the territory and the swamp, on the west bank of the creek, sat the little settlement originally called, for obvious reasons, Indian Crossing. The creek was broad and shallow there, and had been used for many generations of Native Americans as the best place to ford the stream for ten miles in either direction.

It was the custom of most of the inhabitants of the immediate area around Carson’s Cove, to regularly attend Sunday services, every other Sunday, at the meetinghouse.

The Baptist Church met on fourth Sundays of the month and the Methodist Church gathered on second Sundays. Both congregations faithfully met, once a month, on their appointed dates, in the same modest wood frame building that also doubled as a schoolhouse and a meeting hall. It had once been whitewashed, but that was long ago.

Although no member of either congregation would ever actually consider officially joining the other, almost everybody would attend both services. That way they could meet their spiritual needs and, in decent weather, enjoy a social event with a fine meal, jointly spread, right there on the church grounds. It was in this way that they could readily greet their neighbors and catch up on the news of the area—and the younger folks could begin the pairing off for the courting routine that was such an exciting part of their young lives.

This combining of congregations was also helpful because most often they, together, could take up an offering suitable to pay the circuit-riding preachers. The meager cash offering usually was augmented with bushels of corn or sides of meat or offerings of eggs, all of which the ministers thankfully and rightfully received as being a provision of the Almighty through his people.

PART I

44197.png

CHAPTER 1

Eli

1844

E LI HAD NEVER before even thought about shooting at a man and could hardly imagine bringing himself to intentionally shoot to kill anyone who was not a threat to him or his. He lay awake at night, wondering what he was getting himself into, that is, if he really did carry out the act. It would solve several problems for him, no doubt. Of course, it would create a whole new Pandora’s box of even larger problems if he was discov ered.

With a large portion of the night gone and with several half thought-out plans meandering about in his semiconscious, he fitfully slept.

Eli was awakened by the sounds of his mother preparing breakfast for his father and him. It was a gentle, pleasant sound as she stirred the fire in the stove and generally repeated the well-worn routine of the day. Eli could almost trace her movements in the kitchen by the quiet, familiar sounds.

Now she was sifting flour for the biscuits. There! She was pouring water into the pan to rinse the grits that had been soaking all night. Again, he heard the snick, snick, snick of the blade of her butcher knife meeting the hickory cutting board, as she carved thick slices of bacon from the side meat that he had brought in from the smokehouse just the evening before. Indeed it was a good life, he thought to himself, while he tugged on his well-worn brogans.

Just the day before, Eli attended the worship services with his ma and pa, and the words of the preacher still echoed in his mind.

Thou shalt not—! thundered the Baptist pastor, and he went on to enumerate enough glaring sins to condemn most of the Cove. Yet Eli himself was contemplating the taking of another man’s life for the sole purpose of personal gain. It was true that he had not firmly decided to do this evil, but the fact that he even thought it was scary to him.

In his mind, Eli began counting those that had been in attendance; the Parkers were there, and his cousin Thaddeus and his wife. The Cannell family, and of course there was Mr. Robert Blythe and his household. Eli’s counting was interrupted as his mind wandered over what he knew of Mr. Blythe.

Blythe was a member of the Methodist congregation and was also known as the most prominent man in the whole area. He had inherited most of his land from his daddy, locally known simply as ol’ man George. His holdings included the entirety of what many supposed was the prettiest spring-fed, clear-water lake in all of South Georgia. The outflow of the lake made its way downward along a twisting course, named by Mr. Blythe simply the Run. It was the source of power for his sawmill and eventually melded its waters with Sweet Water Creek.

This, along with eight hundred acres of corn, cotton, and tobacco and more slaves than anybody else in Carson’s Cove, made up the majority of his holdings. Moreover, his was the only sawmill for twenty-five miles.

Blythe had built up his holdings considerably from the original bequeathal and was generally considered to be a good man, an asset to the whole area.

A sense of dread came over Eli as he thought, "Is it worth it? To kill such a man